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CHAPTER 5
JANE
The rumble of a Harley cuts through the evening hush, announcing his return before he even crosses the threshold. I’m polishing glasses behind the bar when the sound sends a shiver down my spine. Texas is back. After a week that stretched like the endless highway he roams, he’s here again, and my heart thuds against my ribcage.
“Evening, darlin’,” Texas drawls as he steps into the bar, his voice a deep and it fills the space around us.
He peels off his leather gloves, tucking them into his belt like he’s holstering weapons.
“Tex,” I breathe out, unable to mask the excitement in my tone.
He towers over most, shoulders broad under the worn leather that hugs his frame. His dark hair is a little longer than the last time I saw him, and his jaw is dusted with three days’ worth of stubble. It speaks of nights spent under open skies.
“Missed me?” He arches a brow, half-smirk playing on his lips. There’s a knowing look in his eyes.
“Maybe a little,” I admit, setting down a glass.
It’s a playful confession, wrapped in layers of caution. I can’t afford to let my guard down, not even with him. But God, it’s hard when he looks at me like that.
He chuckles, low and husky, and leans against the counter. “A little is better than none,” he says, and there’s warmth in his words, the kind that seeps into your bones.
My fingers itch to reach out, to trace the lines of his face, to confirm he’s real and not just another ghost passing through. But I clench them at my sides instead, nails digging into my palms. Wanting him is dangerous.
“Got yourself any trouble while I was gone?” Texas asks, his gaze scanning the bar before settling back on me.
“Same old,” I reply, forcing a nonchalance I don’t feel. “Ricky and Snake have been keeping things... interesting.”
“Interesting,” he repeats, a shadow crossing his expression for a moment before it’s gone. “Well, I’m back now. No need to worry about those two.”
His presence promises protection. Yet, I can’t ignore the flutter in my chest, the dual dance of desire and dread. Because with Texas, it’s not just my safety on the line—it’s my heart too. And that’s one thing I can’t afford to lose.
Heads are turned, conversation falters, and I catch the subtle lift of eyebrows and the twitch of lips as they whisper to each other. They’re watching him, but their eyes flicker to me, too, drawn by the smile I can’t seem to tame.
“Is that Tex back already?” someone murmurs from a corner booth, voice laced with a blend of respect and caution.
“Looks like Jane’s got her sunshine again,” another regular chimes in, a tease wrapped in envy.
I wipe down the counter with more force than necessary, my heart drumming a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Their words are a mix of jest and jibe, but I shove them aside, focusing on the man who commands the space just by existing in it.
“Seems you’ve been missed,” I say, the attempt at lightness betrayed by the tremor in my voice.
“Missed the place,” Texas replies, his voice rolling deep and smooth, “and some more than others.”
Our gazes lock and it’s like we’re the only two people in the world. I feel exposed under his scrutiny, the walls I’ve built crumbling without consent.
My breath catches, lost in the intensity of his stare. Around us, the bar continues its dance of clinking glasses and low chuckles, oblivious to the connection that sizzles silently between Texas and me. But within this bubble of shared space, the rest of the world fades to a distant hum, inconsequential and far away.
“Looks like your hero’s come back, Jane,” Ricky drawls, his voice slithering through the charged atmosphere. He leans against the bar, mockery dripping from every syllable.
“Missed us, Tex?” Snake chimes in, his laughter jagged as broken glass. “Or just her?”
I watch Texas’s jaw clench, the cords in his neck standing out like twisted steel. His silence is a fortress, but his eyes never stray from mine.
“Boys,” Texas says, the single word carrying a weight that stills the room.
There’s a promise in his tone, one that doesn’t need voicing. It says here is a line you do not cross.
“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” Ricky continues, pushing off from the bar to stand too close. “We’re all friends here.” His smirk suggests anything but friendship.
